


Playing Fair

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2316350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons, Grif and Sarge at a funfair. Somehow, things manage to go wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CanAm77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanAm77/gifts).



"Goddamn it!" Simmons lowers the air-rifle, lips pursing in disappointment.

"Told ya it's rigged," Grif says, munching into his jumbo size hot dog as he watches Simmons' fruitless endeavours.

"How about you just shut the hell up too?" Simmons grumbles, trigger finger itching. After all, a shot from this wouldn't kill Grif, just hurt him.

"Better luck next time," the carnie says cheerily, reaching out for the gun which Simmons hands back with a sigh."Or, pay another dollar, you get another three shots."

"I don't have any more change," Simmons grumbles, searching his pockets in the hope that he does have money, maybe that's slipped into some hard to reach corner of the fabric. "I already spent like twenty bucks on this, which has got to be more than that crummy thing is worth anyway. Can I just buy it?" He pulls out his wallet hopefully.

The carnie's eyes linger on the wad of green stuffed between the sleeve, "Sure. That'll be 40 bucks."

"Forty bucks?" Simmons splutters. "For a freaking plushy? You're kidding right?"

The carnie shrugs, "For an _official_ chewbacca plushy. You would not believe the licensing fees you have to pay on these things."

"I'm telling you," Grif says, noisily swallowing a mouthful of half-chewed meat and bread. "Ebay. I bet you can get this piece of tat for like ten dollars on there."

"Yeah," Simmons gives a resigned sigh and tucks his wallet away. "That's probably a better idea. I just wish I hadn't wasted so much money on it already."

"Quit while you're ahead," Grif says, clapping Simmons on the shoulder commiseratingly. "Or at least, quit while you've still got money in your wallet. Learnt that the hard way last time in the Vegas quadrant."

"Yeah," Simmons says sharply, jerking his shoulder out of Grif's hold. "I remember. It would have been nice if you'd at least quit once you'd run out of money. You still owe me four hundred bucks, asshole."

"I'll pay you back the next time I score big," Grif promises. "Can we go now? I still have three food stalls I need to check out."

"You are so getting food poisoning," Simmons tells him. "Fine," he shoots Chewbacca one last regretful look. "I quit."

"What in God's name did you just say, Private?"

"Jesus," Simmons leaps about ten feet in the air. "Sarge! You startled me."

"That's because you let your guard down," Sarge growls, advancing forward. "A soldier never lets his guard down, Simmons."

"But we're off duty," Grif points out.

"Jesus!" Sarge jumps, then whirls on Grif, hand automatically straying to his hip holster. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Grif! I almost shot you." He pauses thoughtfully, "Not sure why I stopped, actually."

"I didn't sneak up on you, I've been here all along," Grif says, rolling his eyes and cramming the last bite of his hotdog in his mouth

"Oh." Sarge considers him. "Guess I must have just blanked you out for some reason."

"Funny that," Grif says drily, wiping his hands clean on the hem of his t-shirt.

"Now what was that you were saying, Simmons?" Sarge says, turning his attention back to Simmons.

Simmons balks a little under the fierce glare. "I quit?" he says feebly. "I mean, it's just some dumb game, and like Grif says it's probably rigged -"

"Red team never quits, Private!" Sarge says. "Now what game is this anyway? What are the objectives? We talkin' an undercover stealth assassination or a guns blazing, all out fire fight?"

"You just have to hit the moving target," Grif says. "The _slowly_ moving target," he adds pointedly.

"Fuck you, Grif," Simmons hisses, "I'd like to see you hit it!"

"That it?" Sarge cocks his head, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. "And you couldn't do that, Simmons?"

"It's harder than it sounds, okay?" Simmons says, cheeks flushing.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Sarge says, turning to the carnie who'd been watching them with a fair amount of apprehension mixed with anticipation of easy money to be made.

She perks up as Sarge inspects the range. "Good evening, sir! Fancy testing your skill? It's one dollar for three tries, or three dollars for five! What would you like to pay?"

"Oh, I reckon a dollar should cover it," Sarge says with a low chuckle, handing the money over. "I'll only be needing the one shot."

The carnie's smile doesn't falter as she accepts. "Best of luck, sir!"

"Lucks got nothing to do with it," Sarge says, drawing his pistol. The carnie's face pales and Grif has just enough time to mutter " _Aw hell no_ ," before Sarge fires and everything goes to shit.

 

"I can't believe you guys got me kicked out of a funfair," Grif says disgustedly, looking longing back towards the gates and the security guards that stand there watching them distrustfully.

"Kicked out? You're just lucky we weren't arrested," Simmons says, cringing as he remembers some of the things the guards had said on the way to escort them out. 

"Goddamn it, Sarge," Grif says, shaking his head. "Why'd you think it was a good idea to use a gun loaded with actual ammo in a place filled with civilians."

"Grif," Sarge says seriously,"if you think for one moment I'd ever lay hands on a pansy-ass weapon like an air-gun, then you don't know me at all."

"Come on," Simmons sighs, turning to leave, "let's just go to the shuttle station and wait for the others to show up."

"Yeah, this evening is a total loss," Grif grumbles, walking after him.

"Not a complete loss," Sarge disagrees, "I did manage to capture the prize before we were escorted out." He pulls the chewbacca plushy out of his jumper and brandishes it triumphantly. "Feast your eyes, boys!"

"Sarge," Simmons splutters, jaw dropping and eyes fixing on the stuffed toy. "Wow, sir! I'm really impressed!"

"Yeah," Grif says, grudgingly surprised. "How the hell did you have time to grab that before security tackled us to the ground?"

"Aw hell," Sarge chuckles modestly. "Well, I won't go into the details, but lets just say they should really start outfitting their security with some kind of body armour if they don't want them getting a knee in the nuts."

"Wow," Simmons says, a little hesitantly, "isn't that a little dishonourable, sir?"

"Honour, Simmons?" Sarge gives a bark of laughter, shaking his head in fond amusement,"there's no room for honour on the battlefield, soldier!"

"Oh," Simmons says quickly, "of course. Sorry sir."

"Do you ever get whiplash doing that?" Grif asks, honestly intrigued.

"So, what are you going to do with the prize, sir?" Simmons asks, ignoring Grif's jibe. His eyes flit longing back to the toy.

"Hmm," Sarge scratches at the stubble on his chin. "Hadn't really thought about that, to be honest."

"You could have it stuffed, sir," Grif says slyly, masking his grin with a hand.

"Don't be ridiculous, Grif," Sarge says, shaking his head.

"Yeah, Grif," Simmons says contemptuously, "Why the hell would he do something stupid like stuffing it?"

"Precisely," Sarge says, nodding in agreement, "a beast this fine deserves to be mounted!"

"Yeah! Wait, what?!" Simmons stops in his tracks, dismayed. "You're going to do _what,_ sir?"

"You heard me, Private," Sarge says. "I'm going to cut the beast's head off, then have it mounted on a plaque and hang it in the rec room. Keep up!"

"Sorry sir," Simmons reluctantly jogs to rejoin the others, who hadn't stopped walking. "It's just... do you really think that's the best course of action, sir? Wouldn't you rather just keep it?"

"Keep it?" Sarge sounds baffled. "What use exactly do you think I have for a stuffed toy, soldier? Am I going to cuddle it? Keep it in my bunk in case I have a nightmare?" He chortles at his own joke.

"Yeah," Grif says with a smirk, "can't think who'd want to do something as lame as that."

"Right," Simmons tries not to sound too dejected. "I mean, that'd be totally lame," he laughs humourlessly, before sinking into a gloomy silence.

"..." Sarge shoots a glance at his second in command."On second thoughts, maybe mounting the thing's a bad idea. It'd probably mess with Donut's decorating. Here," he shoves the plushy in Simmons' face, "you might as well have it. Do with it what you want."

"Really?" Simmons squeaks, face lighting, "you're giving it to me?"

"Giving it to you, or chucking it in the trash if you don't take it off my hands in the next minute," Sarge grunts, eyes sliding away from the incredulous smile on Simmons' face. 

"Oh wow, sir!" Simmons hugs the chewbacca to his chest, still beaming, "I honestly can't thank you enough!"

"Oh god," Grif groans, unheard, "this is actually painful to watch."

"Don't mention it, boy," Sarge says to Simmons, clasping his shoulder for an awkward moment.

"I just, I really really appreciate this sir!" Simmons stares starry-eyed at his commanding officer. Grif thinks those might actually be tears in his eyes."This is a really nice gesture sir, and I want you to know that it means -"

"I said don't mention it, Simmons!" Sarge says loudly, cutting him off and walking faster.

"Right, sir! Sorry, sir!" Simmons scampers after, still hugging the stuffed toy to his chest.

"Dear god, just fucking kill me," Grif says sincerely, trailing after them. "I mean it. Smite me. Just don't make me witness another heartfelt moment between those two ever again."

 


End file.
